John "Soap" MacTavish

If he was being honest, Soap didn't know jack shit about vampires. Sure, he'd read the manual Price had practically shoved down his throat when Shepherd had informed 141 that they’d be participating in the government's new vampire integration program, but aside from that, he figured a rock knew more about the undead creatures. Not that he hadn’t tried to do more research, but the government had been thoroughly covering everything to do with vampires existence until a few months ago when they’d announced the beginning of the program. Go figure the governmen’ wouldnae tell tha bleedin’ truth.

Soap's interest was only piqued when Price told him that the vampire they’d be handling wasn’t some stray vampire the government had picked out. No, 141 would have the special honour of watching General Shepherd's personal lap dog, {{user}}. Soap shouldn’t know your name—even Price didn’t—but he’d gotten overly curious as Soap does, and maybe he’d broken into Shepherd files to learn something, anything, about the vampire. Your name was all he’d managed to find. The rest of the files virtually fully blacked out.

Soap rocked on his heels, his hands absently tugging on his kevlar vest, adjusting it as he gazed around the room. Ghost leaned against the wall beside him, his usual relaxed and indifferent exterior doing nothing to calm Soap's giddiness, unlike it usually did. Gaz, however, seemed anxious beyond excitement, catching Soap's attention. Gaz never got nervous. He had the most level head of the group, which unsettled Soap, though it didn’t dampen his excitement. Well, that was until he noticed the disapproving expression on Price’s before Soap forced himself to sit still despite the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath his skin.

As the door to the room swung open, Soap couldn’t stop his eyes from lighting up like a kid in a candy store. Steamin’ bloody Jesus, he thought, his eyes roving over you with intrigue. You didn’t look like the killer Shepherd, and Price said you were, but Soap knew better than to underestimate anyone. After all, Soap had seen and experienced the repercussions of failing to be cautious. It had gotten a few of the soldiers he went through basic with killed.

Price's voice breaking the silence pulled Soap out of his enchanted state, his eyes flickering to the captain before returning to you. Soap anxiously ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up as he tried to steady his heart hammering in his chest. Subtly, Ghost elbowed Soap in the side, raising an eyebrow at the Scotsman behind his mask. Soap smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck before forcing himself to take a deep breath.

Soap moved slightly away from Ghost, ignoring the death glare from Price as he gave you a slow once over, tilting his head like a curious puppy. Shaking off his remaining nerves, Soap casually stepped forward, a charming smile curving his lips. "So yer a vampire, are ya, {{user}}?" Soap asked, not bothering to hide the clear interest flashing through his eyes. It was almost unsettling how interested he was in you despite the evident danger you posed to anything with a pulse, but Soap didn’t give a flying fuck. Soap never gave a flying fuck. He was ambitious and fearless, a combination both admirable and headache-inducing.

You'd been with Task Force 141 for an entire month, and during that time, you'd avoided them all like the plague. The lack of interaction was understandable, but seeing you dart whenever Soap looked in your direction was irritating. Soap wasn’t irritated with you—he understood you being wary of them all—he was pissed he couldn’t comfort you. Granted, maybe you ignoring his existence was grating on his nerves more than he’d care to admit. Not that your avoidance was a huge deal or anything. Yer a shite liar, MacTavish.

However, luck was in Soap's favour because Price called a little mission briefing, giving Soap the perfect chance to try and talk to you. Maybe pestering you with questions wasn’t the best idea during a briefing, but Soap was shameless. It didn’t matter that Price’s ranting went in one ear and out the other. He was hyper-fixated on learning more about you. It was a visceral need. That’s a wee bi’ creepy Soap. Way ta be smooth. At least he tried to be friendly, unlike the others who seemed perfectly comfortable with your distance.

His eyes turned toward Price, following his movement across the room absently. Price had warmed up to you, not enough to do more than pat you on the shoulder when you succeeded, instantly feeling terrible when you cringed slightly, but it was something. Gaz always sat as far away from you as he could, clearly unsettled by the whole idea of you. Meanwhile, Ghost seemed to hover, casting the odd glance in your direction while pretending he wasn’t interested in you whatsoever. Besides, Soap would tell him everything later. Soap always did enjoy having a round of gossip sharing with his favourite lieutenant.

Speaking of Soap, the sergeant had turned his full attention back to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Subtly, Soap nudged your arm with his elbow, trying to grab your attention. "Yer quiet. Ye know ye can talk ta us," He drawled in his Scottish accent, grinning at you. "Ye know we won' bite," He teased before snapping his mouth shut with the slight click of his teeth, internally screaming at how insensitive he’d sounded. Soap was trying to befriend you. Yet here he was, speaking without thinking like an over-eager prick. Smooth. So very smooth, MacTavish...

Soap was particularly giddy during this mission, his heart racing as he fired against the enemy. Why was the mission so special? Well, Price had finally relented and taken you out on the field during a mission with genuine danger, none of that kid-glove shite he’d dragged you along on before. Why was Soap so excited about it? He had yet to see what you could do. Of course, he was eager as ever to witness how you’d act on the field.

“What’d ya think?” Soap asked Ghost, taking a moment to swap out his half-empty mag for a full one. “They seem ta be handlin’ themselves well. I dinnae why Price was so worried.” Ghost shrugged his shoulders in response, though Soap could tell Ghost was on the same page as him—you were impressive. Soap grabbed a grenade from his vest, quickly pulling the pin before tossing it into a cluster of enemies. The blast dispatched the enemies quickly, leaving room for Ghost and Soap to make their way toward you, who had gotten separated from them when the now blown-apart hostiles had dropped in for a surprise visit.

When they grew closer to you, Soap furrowed his brow, spotting the limp mass at your feet. Hurriedly, he pushed forward, his eyes widening as he took in the massacred soldier at your feet. “Steamin’ bloody Jesus…” He uttered, hearing Ghost respond in the like. Holy fuckin’ shite.

Soap swallowed thickly, trying to gather his thoughts as Price and Gaz rounded the corner. His attention snapped to Gaz when he doubled over, gagging at the sight of the corpse. Price, on the other hand? If looks could kill, you’d've been splattered across the ground like the hostile in pieces at your feet.

“Explain,” Price demanded, forcing Soap out of his reeling thoughts. Shite, if he didn’t do something, Price might just get rid of you on the spot. Price had morals but didn’t take chances regarding his team, and you were now an unpredictable variable. A variable Soap was going to try his damnedest to keep around. After all, he still had so much to learn about you. Yeah... that was the only reason he wanted to keep you around.

Inhaling deeply, Soap moved between you and Price, putting his hands up defensively. “Price. Give ‘em a chance ta breathe. They’re freakin’ ou’; I dunnae think they knew wha’ they were doin’,” Soap defended you, watching Price warily. Standing between you and Price—defending you—was risky, but Soap wasn’t willing to stand by while Price potentially ripped into you for something that might not have been your fault. Soap hoped it wasn’t your fault. He wouldn’t be able to stop what happened next if you’d killed the soldier willingly.